


The Female Advantage

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Cisswap, Coercion, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fem!Sam, Forced Drinking, Genderbend, Genderswap, Lesbian Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rule 63, Soulless!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, fem!dean, lesbian wincest, sex spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's still feeling the full effects of a nasty little sex spell courtesy of a banging succubus, but she decides to lie about it to Sam; of course, her soulless sister sees right through her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Female Advantage

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Advantage](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/87056) by Wren. 



> Lesbian divergence to Wren's Advantage series/verse because lesbian!wincest is just the greatest thing in the entire world the end.

Dean stopped in front of the motel room door to collect herself, taking a deep breath, letting her shoulders sag with the weight of the greasy fast food bag on her left and the restock of whiskey and beer on her right. She had it all planned out to the letter, her lips muttering around the words again, just one more time, before she shoved the door open with a plastered-on smirk, sauntering into the room with trademark – if not somewhat affected – bravado. Her face only fell a fraction, seeing Sam perched on a chair opposite the door, very obviously  _waiting_ , very much topless with her hair shower-damp and the rest of her toned body barely covered in tiny black shorts.

_Just drop the bags and crawl over to her, bury your face between her legs and let her fuck your mouth again_.

Dean smiled wider to chase away  _those_  thoughts, the  _spell_  thoughts that might never go away. She could live with them, she had to try. That was the plan, at least.

“Good news, Sammy,” she started, started her calculated walk over to the table, past her sister –  _smell her, she smells so sweet, so clean and she tastes even better_  – without a glance, putting the bags down. “Got some burgers and something to drink and we’re gonna celebrate.”

“Why’s that?” Sam slid around in the chair, Dean saw it out of the corner of her eyes, slinging her long legs over the armrest, peering with disinterest at the bags.

Dean took another deep breath, clenching her hand into a fist to stop the shaking while she reached for the whiskey bottle. This was a mistake, this was a bad idea. She’d lied to her sister before, sure, plenty of times, and this wasn’t any different, except for the way she could feel Sam’s eyes on her, so sure she could see the near-constant dampness of her pussy through her jean shorts.

She smiled again, big and wide, spinning around to face her sister with the whiskey still clutched in her fist. “I dunno if that bitch succubus croaked or decided enough was enough or hell, maybe someone else ganked her, but I woke up feeling  _awesome_ , Sammy. Spell’s over.”

“It is, is it?” Sam raised her eyebrows and fuck, Dean felt her pussy jolt just at that.

She swallowed and nodded, cracking the seal on the bottle. “Yup. Finally feel like myself again, Sammy. Got up, got some burgers - “

“Yeah, right, I can just see you in the back of some greasy spoon, waiting on the food, hiding away in a booth while you size everyone up, trying to figure out who you want to fuck more, the pretty waitresses, or maybe one of the beefy cooks. Fighting not to touch yourself.” Sam’s voice got lower until it was a gravelly whisper, her fingertips brushing the outside of Dean’s thigh and up to the ragged cut-off seam.

Dean shivered at the touch, skin prickling up in goosebumps immediately, mind racing desperately for something else to focus on – the whiskey, _yes, just fucking have a drink_. She gulped two mouthfuls and then batted Sam’s hand away.

“Gross,” she croaked out around the burn, “No, Sammy, the spell is  _over_. So _this_  is over too.” She pointed to the both of them, smirk again plastered on her mouth.

“So you went through the drive-through?” Sam started up again in the same low tone, brushing the back of her hand along Dean’s soft inner thigh, stopping just shy of her crotch. “Because you couldn’t  _stand_  the thought of being around so many people who weren’t fucking you. Played it safe, but I bet you had your hand in your pants the whole time, huh? Bet you gave someone an eyeful. Short shorts, that white tank top, no  _bra_ , who needs ‘em with tits like that, right?” Sam’s hand slid up and down again, and then back up, brushing achingly light against Dean’s crotch on the way to squeezing her waist and trying to slide under her shirt.

_Those big hands on your tits, couldn’t you come just from that? Just let her do it, let her spread you out on the table, let her rip off your shirt and play with your nipples until you come in your pants, and then -_

“No,” Dean said, the beginning clipping like a moan while she put her hand over her sister’s and managed to still it. “Sammy, I’m serious.”

“Really.”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged one shoulder, swaggering off to get two glasses from beside the TV, just unwrapping them from plastic when Sam pressed up behind her and she gasped, hadn’t heard a thing but Sam was like that – especially without a soul. Sam’s breasts pressed hard against her back, all soft flesh and hard nipples and Dean didn’t want to, but she was pressing back too, nestling her ass against Sam’s warm crotch, bending a little at the waist when Sam slid an arm around her.

“Cause I could smell you from the door, you know, that needy wet cunt smell.” Her nose brushed Dean’s ear, hand sliding down the front of her shorts over the rough denim. “Smells like you got fucked while you were out but you were only gone maybe forty, fifty minutes. So maybe you were just riding the seam on these slutty little shorts for a while, all alone in the car. That it?”

_Yes_ ,  _tell her yes, tell her about how you got off in the liquor store parking lot, how quick it was -_

“No, Sammy,” Dean gulped for air, for fresh lies. “No, I got the burgers, I got the booze and I came back here to share my good news with you. Are you even  _listening_?”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” Sam ground out. She pressed her fingertips along the seam she’d been talking about, the hard ridge that rose up right against Dean’s clit, unmistakeable if she sat down right or rubbed against something. “But you went out without panties and you’re soaking through your jeans, so I’m not putting too much stock into what you’re saying.”

“Just…residual from the spell,” Dean explained through a gasp; that was totally it, Sam would  _totally_  buy that. Her hips though, they rocked up against her sister’s fingers, ground her clit against the firm press of fingers and jeans, all treachery and want, and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to fight the moans while her free hand slid over her sister’s, wrapped hard around her wrist. Dean tugged with all her might and, surprisingly, Sam let go, moved off and away. “Thank you,” Dean muttered, turning around and rolling her eyes, finally pouring the whiskey she’d intended. “Okay, so can we celebrate?”

“Yeah,” Sam grinned, still close enough that her bare breasts brushed the front of Dean’s shirt but far enough that Dean felt less sabotaged. “Yeah, Dean, that’s a great idea.”

Dean ignored the predatory twinkle in her sister’s eyes, ignored her clit throbbing against the pressed-in seam of her pants, the needy voice crooning the filthiest things in the back of her head – Dean ignored a lot of things in favour of drinking that day.

* * *

 

She probably should have started with beer, in hindsight, but there was no going back now. Dean was reeling drunk, had to grab the bedside table so the room didn’t tumble away from under her while she got up. Her face was flushed pink and the whole room was suddenly oppressively hot. She was turning the air on, shuffling over to the little beige unit under the window while Sam flicked around the radio. Sam looked  _less_  drunk, somehow, pinkish cheeks at least but still that steady smirk like she knew something Dean didn’t.

“What’re you doing, Dee?”

“Air,” Dean muttered over her shoulder, bending over the thing, watching the letters swim in front of her face. It was  _broken_ , then, obviously. She bashed it with her fist, grunting out, “Hot, want it  _cool_.”

“That’s not why you’re hot,” Sam said, bare feet making no sound, only her voice getting closer letting Dean know she had to straighten up and turn around and even then, Sam advanced.

“It’s ‘cause I’m  _drinking_ , I know.”

“That’s not why either.”

Dean gaped; while the room swam a little, Sam was fully firm and real in front of her, still topless and wearing those shorts that barely clung to her slim hips. Dean  _wanted_  to grab her everywhere, her tits, her ass, wanted to get every part of her in her mouth and – god, it was so much harder to  _pretend_  the curse was over, like this. The drinking was really, really a bad idea.

“Just make it cool,” Dean said, but it was halfway to a whine.

Sam laughed, so close Dean felt it on her skin a second before Sam’s big hands slid up under her shirt and pulled it off, pulled it over her head without any resistance and it  _did_  feel better, didn’t it? Her nipples stiffened up immediately with want. “Better?” Sam tilted her head, smirk gone all sideways, eyes devouring her sister, pinning her down.

Dean almost whined again. “Yeah, Sammy, ‘s better.”

“Good,” Sam said, low rumble so close that Dean felt it, felt it everywhere in a surge of sticky heat. She gasped when Sam leaned closer, eyes sinking shut, but it was only to start up the air conditioning, and Dean managed to slide away, inching along the wall.

_She’s going to make you beg for it now, you can see that, right? Gonna make you want it even more and that’s saying something, since you can’t stop thinking about her mouth on you, about her pussy grinding into your face. Just give it up._

Dean squeezed her eyes shut again, balled her hands into fists. The wall behind her was solid, was a fucking godsend. Maybe she’d pass out before it got to critical mass, maybe Sam would believe her stupid lies and leave it all alone. She made it along the wall to the table, leaning over it, whiskey bottle wobbling strange in front of her when she tried to grab it but eventually she got it, making a triumphant little noise while she refilled her glass.

She half-turned to ask Sam if she wanted more, but the motion made the room all spinny again, made her grab the edge of the table and nearly drop the bottle. No point in asking anyway, Sam would say yes, she  _had_  to, they were celebrating, so Dean splashed both glasses with somewhat generous amounts. She wanted to survey the bottle and the remaining contents but she couldn’t make it stay still long enough, and ended up giggling stupidly while she put it down and picked up her drink.

“This is totally working,” she said, thought it was in her head but it was  _totally_ out loud, and Sam heard over the rumbling air conditioning, eyebrow quirking in interest while she walked over.

“What’s working?”

“Uh, the air? It’s…it’s cooler already,” Dean grinned, felt very smart for coming up with that lie so fast.

“It’s cooler because you’re topless,” Sam said, swooping down to her chair by the table again, poising her drink under her mouth while she gave her sister that  _look_  again, eyes flickering between her face, her tits, and her legs. “Maybe you should lose the shorts too.”

Dean snorted, took down a mouthful of whiskey and nodded at Sam. “Maybe _you_  should.”

Sam raised both eyebrows, clunking the glass on the table and hooking her thumbs under her shorts, sliding them down past her long tanned thighs with ease, letting them fall to her ankles and stepping out of one leg, then the other.

Well, shit.

Dean couldn’t stop staring, the reveal of Sam’s bare pussy so fucking close and achingly casual. She gulped for air, eyes still fixed.

_You know what it tastes like, it tastes like fucking heaven, like your sister’s perfect cunt and I bet she’s ready to go, all wet for your tongue, for your fingers to slide right in and make her scream. Remember how tight she gets on you when she comes? Remember? How could you ever say no? Get on your knees for her, fucking dive in and make her come on your face._

Dean gulped whiskey this time while Sam stared, amused, tilting her hips just a bit, spreading her legs just enough, ostensibly, for Dean to slot in between them. Through the whiskey haze the only real clear thing was the fight not to sink down to her knees and bite at her sister’s thighs, lick a long slow trail up to her sister’s pussy and tongue her way inside. She kept staring, clenching her free hand at her side so she didn’t do something  _stupid_  like start to rub herself right there, although it would be  _real_  easy, so so easy…

Sam cleared her throat and that snapped Dean back to something like reality. Her glass was empty again and the table was right there, so she refilled, leaned heavily against it and ran her hand through her short cropped hair, shuddering out a breath.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, ball of her soft foot gliding up the back of Dean’s calf.

“No,” Dean answered, too quick, overheated skin breaking out in goosebumps again. She sucked in a breath and downed some more whiskey and then stood up to her full height, grinning at Sam. “Naw, Sammy,” she tried again, slower, more calculated. “Everything’s fine, Sammy. Whiskey’s just gettin’ to me, I guess.” And that wasn’t a lie – it was. Even leaning against the table, the floor was starting to tilt again, softly to the right, and well, she had to lean to the left to compensate for  _that_. “But everything’s  _fine_ , Sammy,” she assured her sister again, even as the room gave a spin and she prepared to end up on the ground.

It didn’t happen like that though; something buoyed her up, Sam’s fingers through her belt loops, she saw hazily when she looked down, Sam’s fingers tugging until Dean was sitting somewhere warm and soft and – Shit. Sam’s lap. Dean squirmed, half-heartedly, muttered, “Leggo, Sammy, ‘m fine.”

Sam chuckled, all warm breath against the back of Dean’s neck, her hands sliding around Dean’s waist so smooth and solid. “It’s alright, I got you. Safety, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed out, agreeing because it sounded  _real_  plausible. Safety, she was all  _about_ safety.

Sam nuzzled her nose at the back of Dean’s neck, tapped the languishing whiskey glass with one finger and muttered, “Better drink up, huh? Half a glass left. Can’t waste it.”

“No,” Dean agreed again, blinking down at the glass held loose in her hand and if it would only stay still, she could finish it easy, if Sam only stopped breathing so hot against her neck, she could concentrate. “Gotta stop, Sammy, I can’t-”

“Can’t drink while I’m doing this?” Sam crooned low, a whispery hum against Dean’s skin punctuated by her mouth trailing light up and down Dean’s shoulder, stopping just short of her neck. “I’m sure you can.”

“’Course, but,” Dean tried to get the argument out but suddenly she couldn’t remember it, couldn’t remember  _why_  she didn’t want this. What wasn’t great about this, about being perched in her sister’s lap while her hands skimmed over her stomach, stroked gently up to her tits and then closed around them with a perfect little squeeze? Dean let her head fall back, let her chest rise and fall against her sister’s hands, tilted her hips just  _perfect_  so those stupid jean shorts pressed just right, the heavy seam grinding against her pussy, mashing her clit off to one side so everything was rushing blood and pulsating and she whined and Sam laughed low and dangerous, right in her ear.

That was enough to remind her, enough to set her squirming, trying to get out of the chair and Sam’s embrace. “Sammy, stop, ‘s enough, ‘s over.”

Sam held her tight though, hooking one leg up over Dean’s waist, keeping her in place and spreading her legs. “Finish your drink, Dean.”

Dean gasped for air, struggles made useless by her drink-stupid limbs, by Sam’s sinewy muscle underneath her, around her. And, well, she  _was_  going to finish that drink anyway. She relaxed, just a little, and poured the rest of the whiskey down her throat, more than a mouthful, leaving her gasping again by the end. And if she passed out, Sam would leave her alone then, wouldn’t she? Even with her sister flying soul-free, she was sure that wasn’t Sam’s style.

“Good,” Sam muttered, plucking the glass from Dean’s hand while the other thumbed gently at one of her peachy nipples.

“Gonna sleep,” Dean mumbled back, ignoring the hitch in her own breath, the tiny sparks racing down her body at the most gentle contact. She tried squirming again but Sam had her fast, replacing the glass with the whole bottle, slotting it easily between Dean’s legs so one of the smoothly rounded edges jammed against her shorts. Dean shuddered at the firm contact; there was no way to ignore  _that_.

“Naw, you’re not tired,” Sam pressed Dean’s hands down to the bottle, amusement in her voice going cold. “Kinda insulting that you keep lying to me, though. About the spell, I mean. I’m sure you’re lying about other shit too, but right now, I don’t care.”

“Not – not lying,” Dean forced out, knowing it was ridiculous to keep it up, especially while she was a second away from humping the bottle pressing so _nice_  against her lap. “Just wanna sleep, Sammy, ‘m too drunk-”

“Lying again,” Sam hissed, right against Dean’s ear, and then both hands were on her tits, both nipples pinched between Sam’s strong fingers and Dean’s whole body arched up against her. “I’ve seen you  _way_  more hammered than this, Dee. This is a regular goddamned Saturday night for you, and I thought we were  _celebrating_ , weren’t we? Your stupid little lie about how your pussy’s all back to normal? How you aren’t waking up with your sheets soaked anymore? Aren’t begging your baby sister to fuck your mouth anymore?  _Right?_ ”

“Yeah, ‘s right,” Dean squeezed her eyes closed and answered, but eyes shut made her head feel fiercely light, made her whole body tense up under Sam’s fingers, belying her answer completely.

“So have a  _drink_ , Dean. You know where the bottle is.”

Dean whined again, her thighs tightening around the whiskey bottle between her legs. Celebrating. She had to keep going, had to keep celebrating. She grasped the bottle around the neck and tugged, a groan spilling out at the perfect friction against her aching pussy. But, dutifully, almost forgetting why she was doing it in the first place, she parted her lips around the open bottle and drank.

“That’s it,” Sam whispered against her neck, pressing kisses along her bobbing throat. Her fingers tightened in the most delicious little circles around Dean’s nipples, pulling and twisting so light and concentrated. “Is there anything I couldn’t stuff in that whore mouth, d’you think? Didn’t even argue about the bottle, did you? Pretty pliant for someone who’s  _cured_  or whatever bullshit line you’re towing. Unless you’re just a slut  _anyway_ , guess we’ll have to see.”

Dean pulled away from the bottle with a sudden need for breath, room all dim and swimming and everything,  _everything_  was Sam’s voice and Sam’s long fingers and the aching throb between her legs and the whiskey,  _so much fucking whiskey_ and she didn’t know what to do next; if she planned this far, it had all unravelled. “Sammy, whaddo I do?” She blurted out, all strung together and high pitched and not what she’d meant to say but it was too late since Sam was laughing again against her shoulder.

“That’s a girl. Put the bottle against your cunt again, okay?”

“Yeah,” she huffed out, sliding it down between her legs, rocking her hips up against the firm press of it, whining again.

“Good, good girl. How’s it feel?”

Dean chomped her bottom lip, head falling back against her sister again while she ground herself against the stupid bottle, very nearly empty but full enough to slosh around with every movement, a distant noise in Dean’s ears. “Good,” Dean answered at length, shuddering out her words. “’S nice, but…”

“But?” Sam prompted, tightening her fingers on Dean’s nipples again, pulling them out from her body so sharply that Dean cried out. “But what, Dean?”

“More – I need…need…” She trailed off. She couldn’t think. Maybe this  _could_ be enough, firm pressure under her busy hips, her clit trapped and hard in the soggy denim of her jeans but  _god_ , it felt so good, jumping every time Sam twisted just right on her tits.

“What do you need? Or you gonna come in your pants for me, huh? Bet I can get you there. Bet it’s not even the first time today, is it?”

“No,” Dean whined, not entirely sure what she was even answering, some hazy vision of her hand stuffed down her shorts in the car rising up and flying off just as fast.

“No it’s not the first time you’ve come today or no I can’t make you cream your jeans? Cause I really think you’re lying on both counts.”

Dean didn’t know how to answer, just huffed out quick little breaths and tried, really tried, to unwrap her hands from the bottle, shove them down her pants but Sam  _saw_ , of course, and fixed them firmly on the bottle again.

“You  _tell_  me what you want and you can have it, but until then, I’m gonna make you come just like this,” Sam whispered harsh, teeth worrying at Dean’s ear at the end while she replaced her hands on her sister’s tits, grabbing roughly and flicking her thumbs over the rock hard nipples.

Dean cried out again, almost screamed, “Fingers, want your fucking fingers,” while her whole body arched into Sam’s hands, against the bottle, all lost in sensation and heat.

“Yeah, that’s more like it. Want ‘em rubbing on your poor neglected clit, huh? Won’t even take a minute, will it?”

“No,  _inside_ , Sammy, please,  _need_ -”

“Hmm, straight up need to get fucked, do you? I can make that happen, but first…”

“ _Please_ ,” Dean whined. She was hot everywhere, cheeks flushed red, sweat beading her forehead, all of it emanating from her pussy grinding against the bottle. It was close, so close, every little thrust making her legs quiver, making the sticky heat at the centre of her rise up and uncoil.  _So close…_

“Please  _what_?” Sam ground against her ear, tongue tracing the edges of it, breath passing hot and whiskey-sweet against Dean’s neck. “What do you need, Dee?”

“Please-make me come,” Dean shuddered out the words, all slurred together, and she was surprised when the bottle pressed firmer against her, glancing down to see one of Sam’s hands mashing it harder, holding it steadier for her.

“That’s it, fucking slutty Dean’ll hump whatever I want her to, won’t she?”

“Y-yes,” Dean agreed and she  _would_ , she knew it.

“It’s good though, ‘cause then she gets what she wants. Come like this for me, show me how fucking good to go you are.”

“Fuck,” Dean swore through gritted teeth, body tensing up everywhere and all there was was a stupid bottle between her legs and her sister at her ear, groping her drunkly rough, naked and hot and humping up against her too.

_Probably soaked too because she loves this, making you her stupid little slut, making her do whatever she wants and it’s not even that hard, is it? Bunch of booze and now you’re gonna bust in your pants for her like some mindless fuckdoll, because she wants it that way but you do too, fucking love it…_

Somewhere the spell voice transmuted to Sam’s gravelly tones, talking her off so nice, all, “I can hear how wet you are, fucking squeaking against that bottle, even that’s gonna smell like your pussy when we’re done. Gonna make you lick it clean before I let you do anything else, it’s only fair, ain’t it? After how nice it’s getting you off? Go on, Dean, I know you wanna come on it.”

Dean couldn’t muster a word after that, all hot breath and hard pressure and her release rising up so fast she felt like she was flying up out of her body with only Sam’s heat, Sam’s constant dirty talk and the rough hard bottle between her legs to ground her. Her thighs clenched, tightened against the bottle and god, she really  _was_  coming against it, head lolling back, fingers grasping uselessly against the smooth glass while her whole pussy quivered inside and out, muscles tightening mournfully around  _nothing_  and that was unacceptable, that made her groan with want even as she was riding her orgasm out, weird and shuddery and  _so_  not enough.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, all thick and impressed and lust-blown, scrambling to slide the bottle away, tugging down Dean’s shorts while she was ragdoll compliant in her lap. “What was it you wanted, Dee?”

Dean couldn’t answer, head rolled back and heavy and everything hit her at once, the drinking and the coming and she didn’t know, couldn’t remember where she was except in her sister’s lap with a burn in her throat and her cunt still pulsing with a mind of it’s own.

“Something about fingers, wasn’t it?” Sam rasped against her ear, spreading Dean open wider with the leg hooked around Dean’s calf, settling her big palm on Dean’s thigh.

“Yeah, fingers, yeah” Dean groaned, hips still rocking up against nothing like they were begging all on their own. “Want…wanna come.”

“You just did, Dean. Not enough for that greedy little pussy, huh? Ever enough?”

“No,” Dean whined, no thought at all, just want, all want. “ _Please_ , need…need you to fuck me.”

“That’s better,” Sam panted against her, slipping her fingers easily from Dean’s thigh over to her slick pussy, ghosting over her clit and curling at her entrance. “So  _ready_ , aren’t you? Fucking dripping on me.” Sam pushed in then, slid two fingers inside so easy, huffing out through her nose.

And Dean’s whole body felt like fire; she whined again,desperate and high, trying to fuck herself down on her sister’s fingers even as Sam was curling them inside just right and then she was clenching around them, blood rushing in her ears and her head fucking spinning circles.

“ _God_ , are you coming again or  _still_?” Sam said low, almost laughingly.

Dean had no idea, not a fucking clue, just let Sam do what she wanted as long as it was  _that_. Her body throbbed everywhere, one big nerve that wouldn’t stop clenching and grasping and then she was on the floor, flat on her back, pussy empty, still pulsing around nothing and the ceiling spinning above her until it was obscured by Sam, all tanned and long limbs, lowering down with a smirk and Dean’s entire world was her sister’s legs on either side of her head and her perfect, beautiful cunt shoved in Dean’s mouth, smearing her lips and dripping salty wetness down her chin.

“Gotta rub yourself off, Dee,” Sam said, one hand twining in Dean’s short hair to hold her at the perfect angle, hips grinding down into Dean’s mouth. “Want you to keep coming while I fuck your mouth.”

Dean just moaned her assent, one clumsy hand sliding between her own legs, everything oversensitive and too much and not enough, so close to spinning out of control but for the grounding force of Sam riding her face, telling her how fucking filthy she was, just a mindless bag of meat for fucking and coming, how she’d just stay slutty like this forever, long after the spell wore off, and, well, Dean couldn’t argue; she was coming again at just the simplest press of her fingers against her touchy clit, and couldn’t imagine anything else besides this, besides a dark motel room and her soul-free sister calling her a whore, fucking her face into a sticky, swollen mess.

Dean couldn’t even remember why she’d lied in the first place.


End file.
